


Crocus

by Raelynn



Series: One Word Prompts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After the Fall, F/M, Feels, late night visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another one word prompt, this one from one-amber-owl:  "One-word prompt: Crocus? (Spring mood!)"  Sorry for the feels!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crocus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amberowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberowl/gifts).



Molly Hooper wasn’t sure why she was here. She was one of only a handful of people in the entire world who knew that the obsidian headstone adorning the grave of Sherlock Holmes was a lie. That the coffin that had been lowered into the ground contained sandbags carefully weighed out to approximate the weight of Sherlock Holmes’ corpse.

Yet, it was spring, and she missed him terribly. She worried for him. Mycroft had assured her that if anything actually happened to him, she would be notified. She would not spend the rest of her life wondering why he hadn’t come back. But that didn’t stop her from worrying about him, out in the world, alone. She had known him before John Watson, and she knew how much of a good influence the Army doctor had been on him. And now he was alone.

She stood, holding the small bouquet of spring flowers. Daffodils and bluebells, and her favorite, tender purple crocuses. She wiped away a tear that threatened to fall from her eye, and bent to lay the flowers at the base of the stone. 

“Stay safe,” she whispered. “Come home to us.”

After a few moments she stood again, running her hand along the top of the stone before turning and making her out of the cemetery.

oOo

Later that evening while dozing on the sofa while a rerun of Doctor Who played on her telly, Molly was jolted awake by the sound of the door to her flat opening. She quickly sat up, reaching for her mobile, until she recognized the man standing inside her flat, closing the door behind him quickly.

His hair was longer than she’d ever seen it, pulled back into a messy ponytail, and he was wearing jeans and a hoodie, but it was unmistakably Sherlock Holmes.

“What…” she began. He crossed the room quickly and sat down on the other end of the sofa from where she sat. Molly turned off the telly.

“I’m not back,” he said. “Not yet. But I was in town, and I visited my grave. Only you or Mrs. Hudson would have left flowers, and she’s on a cruise with whatever beau has her attention at the moment.”

He paused. “You left flowers at my grave. You know I’m not dead.”

Molly shrugged, “Keeping up appearances.”

Sherlock reached for her, a question in his eyes. She moved over, leaning against his side and wrapping her arms around him. “It’s okay, I know you miss me.” 

Molly sighed, “I miss you, but mostly I worry about you out there, alone. Are you staying safe? Are you staying…” she paused.

“Clean?” he said. “Yes. I need to be clear headed to do the work I’m doing.”

Molly smiled. “Good.”

They lapsed into silence, the pathologist and the detective, their arms wrapped around each other, just breathing and being. After a while, Molly broke the silence. “How long are you here?”

Sherlock sighed, “I should already be gone. But I wanted to see you.”

Silence filled the room again.

oOo

Molly wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep, leaning into the arms of Sherlock and listening to him breathe, listening to his heartbeat. But she awoke alone, on her sofa, a blanket pulled over her. For a long moment, she wondered if her nighttime visitor had been a dream, until she looked over at the coffee table in front of the sofa.

A single purple crocus lay there.

She smiled, and pulled the blanket tighter around her.


End file.
